On the Matopos Hills

the timeless domes in grey majesty
pierce the sky in irregular form
covered with mopani in great tapestry
belying their wholeness since dawn
the singlemost and largest of all
echoing at dusk with eagles call
filled with splendour and with ghosts
this of my home I miss most
roads meander and hills abound
eerie quiet shattered by sound
of snorting leopard or angry baboon
or just the warbling merry bird's tune
in silence to sit on the maleme dam wall
watching for ripples - fish for all
rocks so slippery that life is at risk
when hidden in early morning's mist
winter the green now dry and cold
land tinder dry weathered and old
growth timber is set to burn
people hungry nowhere to turn
but to make of the wood
carvings so bold
that in selling and buying
more is traded than gold
these are the memories of that mystical place
in the cold winter's morn with a scarf o'er my face
i sit at the camp-fire and ponder the day
but now 'tis my memory alone that makes hay
this granite outcrop dwarfs all